


Fashion Week

by AdorabloodthirstyKitty



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Humanstuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:53:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3519578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorabloodthirstyKitty/pseuds/AdorabloodthirstyKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fashion Week is what young new fashion designer Kanaya Maryam has been dreaming about for years. But a chance encounter with beautiful model Rose Lalonde may be the most rewarding part of her days in New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Showtime

Your name is Kanaya Maryam and you are an up-and-coming designer. You've flown across the country for Fashion Week, and honestly you're extremely nervous. Your face doesn't reflect your unease as you stand backstage, bass thumping as designers, models, and everyone in the fashion industry makes their way to their seats. You're tying bows, fixing popped seams, buttoning buttons and generally fussing over every model in your designs. The first set from the collection are slacks, jackets, blouses, and hats. You also have some beautiful gowns and dresses for the second half of the show, and you pray that nothing is wrong with them. You won't have much time to look them over before they'll walk, so right now you're looking over stitches as a couple more models come in. If there's anything you hate more then anything, it's a late model. You feel your brows turning down in annoyance but don't even bother fixing your expression. You have a right to be a bit mad given the circumstances.

A couple of the last models finally make their way in, hurrying over to the clothes rack and grabbing the clothes you point out for each of them. You finish going over a seam in one of the gowns, looking up to do a head count and your frown deepens. One of the models is missing. You huff out your nose, giving the gowns another look over before going to help the late models finish getting ready. You take a little peak out toward the runway and find that everyone is seated and waiting before the lights dim considerably, music going quiet. The show is starting.

You purse your lips and finish the last model's alterations, looking to your watch just as the door bursts open, white light shining into the darkness of the room backstage. You whip around and find your last model, your breath seeming to hitch when you see her. Her skin is lovely, hair in a sharp bob. Her eyes are rimmed with black eyeshadow, her skin seeming to be made of porcelain. She moves easily and quickly to the rack, grabbing the last hangar and quickly pulling the clothes on. You wait, letting her finish dressing before fixing the garments, tilting her hat a bit, tucking in her shirt, pulling the hems of her pantlegs down a bit. You look over all of them and give a quick wave as the music starts. "Good luck," is the only thing you say, the models lined up and waiting before the first girl walks out into the light of the runway. You stand next to the front of the line, watching as each girl goes out. You watch their walks, the way the garments move with their bodies, the faces of the people in the crowd. You recognize quite a few people in the audience and pray that they love your clothes as much as you do. The last girl, the one with the blonde bob, is now standing near you, waiting for the people in front of her to go out into the light. You're caught off guard when she speaks.

"They had mentioned your clothes were lovely but failed to mention how lovely the designer was. You should be a model," she says, bright eyes with dark makeup looking toward you. You try not to let the compliment get you embarrassed, glad for the makeup covering the blush on your cheeks.

"Thank you, but I'm quite happy making the clothes," you reply coolly, still looking out at the runway as the next girl goes out. You hear her hum thoughtfully and feel as if you're being studied, not wanting to meet her gaze. Next girl goes out and you're left with the blonde.

"If you'd let me, I'd love to take you to dinner after this," she says, head high and facing the runway, and if you hadn't been the only other person in the room you wouldn't have even known she was speaking to you. You pause, eyebrow rising and cheeks darkening under your foundation.

"I'll give you some time to think it over," she replies, and steps under the bright lights of the catwalk. You watch her more closely then the other models, trying to figure out what your reply will be. She is beautiful, but models always are. Her confidence is intriguing though, and you find yourself giving her a small smile when she comes back up the runway, her eyes finding yours. She returns the smile and you feel the breath leave you as she heads down to the end and into the doorway of the other side of the catwalk, the first models hurrying over to the rack to pull on gowns. You shake yourself out of your daze and rush over to help them dress.

Soon the first half are lining up, the first girl walking out, her gown swish-swish-swishing as she struts. More girls come to get dressed, and you help them all, the blonde waiting near the back. She's wearing one of your favorite gowns, white and flowing and beautiful. She looks stunning, and you feel your face heat up when you realize you'd been staring. She gives you a knowing smile and you quickly help her get the zipper up, ducking your head down as you wish you could disappear.

Soon you both step up to the line, her at the end and you standing next to the girls in front. One by one they walk out, and you look over every bead, ruffle, and button, trying to keep calm. Soon the blonde steps up next to you and you speak. "I'll need your phone number if we're to go to dinner," you say evenly, and see her smile out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll be sure to get your number before I leave. I'll pick you up at about 11?"

"That sounds lovely," you reply, giving her a small smile. She smiles back, giving a curt nod before stepping out into the light again, your dress flowing behind her like a dream. You let yourself smile, watching as she goes down the catwalk, pausing for a pose before coming back up. She smiles at you again before turning toward the doorway and disappearing on the other side of the backstage area. Soon models are streaming in, some smiling, some speaking quietly but excitedly. You line them up again, first the ones in casual clothing and then the gowns, your date for tonight at the end of the line. They go one right after the other, and you hear a roar of applause. Your heart swells with pride, letting the models go out one by one. Soon they've all gone out, and you wait for them all to leave the stage before going out yourself, the crowd almost deafening as you walk to the end of the long catwalk. You smile throughout, bowing your head and giving a wave before heading back toward the end of the catwalk and going through the doorway, around the back of the stage, and toward the room you'd been in for the majority of the show. The models are changing back into their own clothes and you thank them all for coming, wishing them a good night. You look around but don't immediately spot the blonde, looking down to your watch again to check the time. About an hour and a half til the date. You take a deep breath and go to put the dresses and clothes back in their bags on the hangars when the models are done changing. You're so preoccupied with making sure it's all here that you don't notice someone standing near you until she steps into your line of sight and speaks.

"May I see your phone?"

It's the blonde, and you quickly pull the device out of your pocket, unlocking the screen and going to the new contacts menu before handing it to her with a smile. She takes the phone and you focus on putting the clothes away again. You hear her tapping on your phone as you finish packing all of the garments in a couple of large suitcases, setting them aside before turning back to the blonde. She smirks as you take your phone back, giving a small nod. "I'll see you at 11," she says with a smile, and before you can think of a response she turns and heads for the door. You're left watching her leave, staring even after she's gone before looking to your phone and searching for her contact information. You hadn't even asked her name before she left. You scroll through before finding one you're sure is new.

Rose Lalonde.


	2. Worry

As soon as all of the clothes are packed into the van your assistant drives to the hotel, you following close behind in your car. After the craziness of the past couple of hours you're finally starting to calm down, a small smile on your face when you think about the night you've had so far. You're also a bit nervous, not only about the outcome of the show and the opinions on your clothes that will be flooding the internet and fashion magazines, but because you excepted an invitation for dinner with a beautiful model not even half an hour ago, leaving you to worry about the date as you sit in traffic, inching toward your hotel at an agonizingly slow pace. You put on music to try to clear your head but you can't stop worrying no matter how hard you try.

You have no idea why this date is making you so nervous. You've dated before, you've seen a few women in your time, yet as you sit through this unending traffic jam you can't help but analyze the conversation over and over, imagining the date that will follow as you try to figure out what you'll say, what you'll talk to this woman about. You don't know anything about this woman and yet you feel as if you're a teenager again, overanalyzing everything, worrying and fussing over a date that hasn't even happened yet. You give a small, irritated sigh. You need to get your head back on your shoulders, you need to calm down. There's only one person you can think of to talk to about this, so you dial his number, the sound of the phone ringing throughout the car until his voice comes on, sounding a bit gruff.

"Kanaya? What the fuck are you doing, didn't your show just end?"

You smile, feeling a bit of tension leave your shoulders just from hearing his voice. "Hello Karkat. And yes, I did. I'm calling for a.. personal matter, I thought you might be able to help me with," you say, already embarrased for calling. You're an adult, you shouldn't have to be bothering your friend about a crush like a child.

"Alright? This isn't serious, is it? You sound nervous," he says, voice more quiet, concerned. You shake your head quickly before remembering he can't see you.

"No no, nothing serious. I.. I'm going on a date, and I'm just feeling a bit.. frazzled," you manage to get out, your cheeks warming up a bit. "I think I might need some words of encouragement."

"Wow, really? It's been a while since.. well, since you dated anyone. Are you sure you're up for it?"

You know what he's worried about. It's been a couple of years since you dated anyone because of an embarrassing fight you had with your then-crush Vriska. You did not handle her falling for someone else well, and ended up shutting her out of your life completely and focusing solely on your work. Karkat had suggested more then once that you try finding someone else but you refused, saying that you were fine, that you weren't interested. In all honesty you'd been nervous to try, afraid you'd get hurt again. This could explain why you're so worried tonight.

"I believe so. I understand what you mean, but it has been a while. I think I'm more intimidated by this woman then anything else. She's.. lovely. And she seems sharp. I just hope I won't do something or say something that may end up making me look foolish," you admit, frowning as you finally get to the intersection, turning and slowing down as you wait to pull over in front of the hotel.

There's a pause on the line, and you imagine Karkat's pensive face, his head resting on his arm as he sits backwards in a chair. The image brings a smile to your face.

"That makes sense. But let me just tell you this: you're fucking amazing, Kanaya. You're smart and talented and beautiful, and if this girl doesn't see how fucking incredible you are then she can't be as smart as you think she is. If she doesn't see how great you are, she's the one missing out. And if you need someone to watch romcoms with and cry to, which I'm sure you won't, I'll be here. You just call and tell me you're coming and I'll get the ice cream," he says, and you think you hear the hint of a smile in his voice. You tear up a bit, smiling as you pull up in front of the hotel.

"Thank you so much Karkat. I'll call and let you know how it goes," you say, soon hanging up and grabbing your things before heading out to the front doors, the vallet driving toward the parking garage. You head up to your room, feeling much less nervous as you head in and go straight for the closet to pick out the perfect dress.

**Author's Note:**

> my first rosemary fic! this will be probably be only a couple chapters but I hope you guys like it


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